


A Hangover, a Bowl of Cereal, and a Shower

by CockAsInTheBird



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Ass to Mouth, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hangover, M/M, Pining, Rimming, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: They've been living together for a long while now, or so it feels. No longer enemies, not exactly friends, yet Steve can't help but pine for Billy's touch, and when he's out doing whatever it is he does at night, Steve drinks himself asleep, and wakes up with an expected hangover.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 218





	A Hangover, a Bowl of Cereal, and a Shower

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a very short thing @withoneheadlight wrote on Tumblr, and with their permission I wrote this!

The sun is too bright, the cars outside his window too loud, the _fucking seagulls cawing and screeching_.

Billy hadn’t come home yesterday again, and at this point who even knows how many times he’s spent the night in someone else's bed.

Not that it’s really any of Steve’s business, of course, they just live together, barely even friends but on _tolerable_ terms, at least. Tolerable meaning they’ve made peace; Billy apologised during Steve’s last year of high school, and when he started working at Scoops Ahoy after graduating, Billy always saw it fit to come by-

“Picking up my shitty sister,” as he put it.

And when Steve started working at Family Videos-

“Waiting for Max to finish up at the arcade,” he’d claim as he browsed, “You, uhh, recommend anything?”

Not that it isn’t still hostile between them, but maybe that’s just how Billy is, and maybe that’s just how Steve likes him. Mean and rude and inconsiderable at times. Yet Steve’s favourite cereal is always stocked up, laundry washed, dishes done, and he feels _guilty_.

Guilty that he doesn’t do more at their shared apartment. Guilty that he never really thanks Billy for what he does. Guilty that he has an undeniable crush on his ex-nemesis now roommate.

With a heavy sigh, Steve drags himself out of bed, head throbbing from having drowned in sorrows in a bottle of straight jack. Slips on a pair of socks so as to not touch the chilly floor, and a shirt, large and black with Metallica printed on front; a shirt that isn’t his, that he “stole” from the dryer a few days ago. He gives the collar a sniff and it doesn’t smell of Billy - it smells of the laundry detergent they use, but knowing that Billy has worn it before is enough to warm his aching heart just a slight bit.

_Stupid stupid stupid_ , he repeats in his mind as he inches toward the door of his bedroom.

Save for the floorboards creaking underneath his sluggish weight, it’s quiet. No tv running, no music from Billy’s bedroom, no grunting as he lifts weights on the bench that takes up far too much of the living room.

He’s not here. _Billy’s_ not here. 

Steve continues reminding himself how idiotic it was of him to even come out here. California is far away from his parents' reach, a place where he can maybe find out who he is, and Billy always talked about coming back here, so them moving in together was “ _convenient._ ”

However, so far all Steve has found out about himself is that he doesn’t know how to cook, gets sunburnt so easily that it’s laughable, and that he’s all too invested in Billy’s personal life.

When he opens the cupboard and finds Kellogg’s Apple Jacks™ on the shelf, a new and unopened pack, he groans in defeat as his heart does its usual dance and song, because of course Billy had ensured there was food for Steve. He always fucking does.

He pours them into his favourite bowl, a white one with fancy flowers painted in blue, stolen from his old home to just have _something_ from his parents with him, and next goes milk. He yawns wide before shoveling in the first mouthful, the one that’s always perfectly crunchy and having just started tasting of cinnamon before it all becomes a soggy mess.

About halfway through the bowl, the floorboards behind him _creaks_ and he nearly drops the bowl as he jumps, spilling a bit of milk on the floor.

Steve spins around to find Billy there, dressed in only his sweatpants, eyes cast down at where he was _apparently_ staring at Steve’s ass, who’s quick to realise that he hadn’t bothered with underwear because he was oh so convinced he’d be alone for at least two more hours.

“O-oh, Billy, I-I didn’t hear you come in last night,” he stutters under the intense stare, placing the bowl on the counter and hopes it isn’t too noticeable when he gathers his legs.

Billy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t _do_ anything, simply looks down Steve’s naked legs, eyes burning and _hungry_. When he finally meets Steve’s gaze, he wets his lips before rasping out,

“I came home like an hour ago, was about to take a shower but wanted coffee first, and…” he trails off, and so does his eyes again.

Steve is… _unnecessarily_ excited under those heady, ocean blues as they take in all that he is. Feels himself _swell_ at the attention, but paralysed by shock of having been caught _by Billy in Billy’s shirt_ and practically nothing else. 

And Billy steps through the door frame into the kitchen. Keeps walking slowly, _cautiously maybe_ , he makes his way to where Steve leans against the counter, fingers curled around the edge with anticipation and a bit of fear.

Normally he’d have guessed that Billy would call him names, mock him with a poisoned grin, but with such heavy lids and mouth slightly open, that doesn’t seem like the most likely outcome to this, _and it only thrills Steve all the more_.

Billy comes to a standstill in front of Steve, feet almost touching, and he leans closer, places his left hand next to Steve’s, thumb touching skin there. And he bites into his plump lower lip, eyes dancing across Steve’s features just to land on his mouth, mind clearly working away at something.

Up this close Steve catches a whiff of cigarettes and the usual cologne, maybe a bit of sweat from whatever he’s been doing all night. _Or whoever_ . He can feel Billy’s calm and collected breathing ghost across his lips, and his heart stops beating in anticipation, lips quiver, _dick hopeful_.

“Is that my shirt?” Billy mumbles out and tugs at the hem that stops mid-cheek on Steve’s slighter frame. 

He might be taller by a few inches, but he still swims in the shirt stretched out by Billy’s broad shoulders and chiseled pecs.

“Y-yeah…”

At that, Billy’s fingers let go of the shirt, then spread out against Steve’s skin. He takes an all too loud breath at the electric jolt Billy’s warm palm urges out, shooting straight to between his thighs where his cock gives a curious little kick.

The hand wanders, across his thigh to his front, moving at a pace so slow it can only be deliberate, Billy teasing him, or maybe waiting for him to say stop.

But he doesn’t, so _he doesn’t._

Smooths the tips of his fingers higher up, through the coarse pubic hair, till he reaches the base of Steve’s shaft, the palm of his hand grazing against the lazy head, effectively making him _grow harder_ , and gasp out a breathy, “ _Fuck_.”

Billy moves closer again, knee pushing Steve’s legs apart, noses nuzzling together, lips like feathers, _daring_ Steve to kiss him.

He moans instead, as the hand tickling his skin closes in an expert fist, possibly giving away just how many times Billy must have done the same notion to himself. A thought that _delights_ Steve to impossible extends, knowing that the hand Billy jerks off with is now stroking him under the shirt.

“ _Fuck, Billy,_ ” Steve whimpers and brings a hand to steady himself on Billy’s firm shoulder.

And he can’t wait any more; presses their lips together and is immediately met with the same fervor he offers up - soft lips in a hard embrace, touching each other as if they’ve always wanted this, as if all the strife in their past was just tension and unresolved shit that culminated to punches and bleeding noses.

The motion of Billy’s fist is relentless, and Steve has to break away to breathe. “ _A-ah, shit, Billy!_ ”

He bites his way down Steve’s neck, painful and _delicious_ , stroking his now fully erect cock like he’s eager to have him cum, wanting to watch Steve unravel and cry out his name.

And just as Steve is seconds away from ruining the shirt, Billy pulls off, leaving behind an ache that makes Steve cry out from the edge of release.

“Fuck! Billy you asshole, why-” he doesn’t get to finish that thought before he’s spun around, a hand on his upper back pushing him against the counter, head throbbing worse than his filled dick. “Billy- _Billy!_ ”

“Want me to stop?” Billy snaps a bit too loud, a bit too sudden, but the answer is inevitably,

“ _No,_ ” and Steve is set on that. 

He’s wanted this for far too long; suspects that he’s been craving Billy since before he graduated, but didn’t dare think about it too long. Spent some extra time restocking the porn section of Family Videos in the backroom behind the curtain, borrowed a few gay ones in secret. He was more than _curious_ , he was _interested_.

Now he’s here, cheek pressed against the cold surface of their kitchen counter, eyes closed to the world as he focuses on how Billy’s holding him down with one hand, the other squeezing his ass, spreading him, _exposing him,_ and-

It is _slick_ and _wet_ and _weird_ when Billy licks his fat tongue flat across his hole. Not _bad weird_ as far as he can tell from the way his entire body _squirms with pleasure, his prick leaking,_ and he gasps when Billy _does it again_.

_And again_ . He grabs on with both hands as he sloppily _eats out Steve’s ass_ , sucking with wet lips, tongue sliding over the rim time and time again, _the tip prodding at his entrance,_ making him moan out, whimpering for _more_ without as many words.

Billy seems almost happy to oblige, _shoving his tongue in_ , and Steve _knows_ what that _looks like_ , but to _feel it_ ? His body is on _fire_ , burning hot and white, feeling better than he ever thought it actually would; he knows the men on those tapes are just actors, always just believed they were exaggerating, but _no_.

Steve has never been this aroused in his fucking life, 21 years old and hornier than he ever was as a teenager surrounded by hot girls. None of them he ever slept with made him feel this… _incredible_ , and he has none other than _Billy fucking Hargrove_ to thank for it. With every lick and suck and _penetration_ he’s nearing the edge again, faster than he ever thought he could, to be honest, but it’s just not enough to get him there.

“ _Billy- Billy please, I’m so close, please touch me_ ,” he begs with a voice all indecent, drooling a bit on the counter as he stays flat and powerless, simply unable to do _anything_.

Then he’s left alone, ready to complain and tell Billy, “ _Fuck you,_ ” but when he glances over his shoulder, he sees Billy _whip out his fat cock_ , and Steve sucks in a quick breath, eyes wide and _amazed_. He’s seen it before, in the showers at school, accidentally in the shower of their apartment, but never _like this_ … so _girthy_ and _veiny_ , _red_ _and shiny with pre_.

Billy grabs Steve by the hips, and for a moment he thinks that Billy’s just going to _fuck him_ , right here right now, unprepped, dry, it’s probably going to hurt, but Steve’s _so curious_ to _finally_ find out what that feels like- what _Bill’s dick_ feels like, what it’s like to _have sex with Billy_.

Yet he’s still relieved when he instead feels it between his cheeks, rubbing through the spit and across his rim. He gasps and moans all the same though, lets Billy control the pace as he with a bruising grip on Steve’s hips pulls him into his thrusts, skin slapping together in an obscene fashion that makes Steve’s cock drip and throb, keeping him on that sharp edge of orgasm.

“ _Shit, Billy, ah-h,_ ” Steve whines out a plea.

When a hand closes around his aching cock again, he moans unadulterated, the pleasure of Billy’s every touch pushing the hangover into the background. The rhythm is erratic in a sense, quick then slow, all the way up or shallow, but in tact with how Billy’s hips meets Steve’s cheeks, keeping him from cumming as if he’s wanting to time it, have them both cumming together at once.

But Billy cums first; he’s quick to pull up the tee and paints Steve’s back with hot and warm semen, grunting a few times as he stops pounding against Steve’s ass. He then bends over to get a better grip on Steve’s cock as he jerks him to completion with a few practiced flicks of his wrist, Steve being loud in comparison and definitely less controlled, eyes rolling back to watch the fireworks as he spills over the cupboard beneath them.

In that moment he’s beyond thankful that Billy’s there behind him, supporting him and keeping him caught against the countertop, or he might just fall to the floor as his legs give out. As he lays there, for a moment in complete bliss with no headache, eyes closed, panting, he feels Billy wipe his back clean with a napkin.

“Can you stand?” he sounds all too amused, hands down on Steve’s hips, rubbing where his fingers might just have left a few bruises.

“I’m… I’m, ahh, yeah,” Steve exhales and pushes himself up and standing.

He turns around to watch Billy tuck himself away again, chest heaving a bit, a rather relaxed expression on his face, and when their eyes meet _he smiles_ . Not a grin, nor a smirk, but an actual smile, and it makes Steve’s heart throb and bleed and _hope_.

“You can keep the shirt, I guess,” Billy shrugs all nonchalantly, as if they hadn’t just been doing _whatever they were doing_. “I’m gonna take a shower now, wanna join me?”


End file.
